


You're not as quiet as you think you are

by ramblingAnthropologist



Category: Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Everyone's queer in the Gay Wardens, He has no reason to be, M/M, Miris is shy about his new relationship, You know they fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 06:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12475304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingAnthropologist/pseuds/ramblingAnthropologist
Summary: Miris Tabris thought he was being subtle about his recent activities with one Zevran Arainai. As it turns out, he's about as subtle as a hammer to the face. However, as he finds out, nobody really minds who he beds with. After all, nobody's straight in the Ferelden Grey Wardens.





	You're not as quiet as you think you are

Morning; wonderful, too early morning had come upon the camp at last. What birds that were left unblighted and hadn’t had the sense to fly the fuck away were tweeting in the bare trees, though they looked like they had lost their share of feathers. It was a gray morning which would become a gray day, and there would probably be rain. That’s how Ferelden did things anyway; lots of rain, usually dogs in it.

Miris could feel every muscle in his lower back as he crawled out of his tent, belongings packed for the walk that was to follow. Zevran had left earlier, winking and blowing him a kiss as he did. Things like that made the back pain worthwhile, though it didn’t help with getting his shit together.

He rubbed his neck as he yawned, approaching the low fire. Cahel was poking at the flames absent-mindedly with a stick, humming to himself some weird Dalish tune that he always fell back on when he was bored. At night, it could be downright spooky but in the day it lost its power. At any rate, he was blocking the way to breakfast.

“Move, squirt. I’m fucking hungry.”

Usually, he would get a protest in the form of shouting and similar insults thrown back at him. Instead, when those big blue eyes turned back to face him, the boy pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from snickering. It failed, because he was soon chuckling at a low volume.

“Well, I can certainly imagine why.” He hopped up, doing a mock bow in order to allow Miris to access the pot of last night’s dinner boiled over for breakfast. “Here you are, good ser. Enjoy the break of your fast.”

Little asshole was getting sarcastic in his old age. The reaver shot him a dirty look as he walked past in order to grab some reheated stew from the pot. Thanks to being so late to the party, there wasn’t much left. It was enough for him, but it definitely made his back pain a little more annoying. He was pretty sure he heard a snicker when he winced bending over, but it was too hard to prove.

Sitting, though? No way in hell he was doing that. Instead, Miris opted to stand by the fire as he swallowed down his breakfast as fast as possible. It tasted less like despair that way, or at least that was what Alistair said the night before. He didn’t trust the human on much, but he had been right on the money when that was concerned.

Another giggle, and he shot a second dirty look. Cahel was back to sitting in front of the flames, taking a little knife to a piece of wood in his piss poor attempt at carving. Most of it wound up in the fire, some even chucked there. It kept his mouth shut and hands out of other people’s stuff, so he couldn’t complain much.

“Something funny, squirt?”

“Oh no, nothing funny here at all.” Another giggle as he carved what looked to be a head. Or it could’ve been an arm. “Just surprised you’re not sitting down. Planning to, shit how did that inn keeper put it last time, dine and dash?”

His eyes were wide with faux innocence and his smile was absolutely fox like in comparison. Miris felt his face heat up, but he stared his opponent down. Long nights at home had taught him never to give ground to such a puny opponent.

“If you’ve got something to say then spit it out. I ain’t got all day.”

As Miris took another bite of his breakfast, the small elf’s voice rang out in a sing-song tone. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are~!”

That mouthful of stew wound up spattered on the ground. Now, Miris knew his face was entirely red. This time it was from coughing though, and he was damn good at it. It was amazing that he didn’t hack up a lung in the process. His fellow Warden came to the rescue with a few hearty smacks to his lower back, which only made things worse.

“Don’t die on me, Tabris! You kill stuff for us!”

Eye watering, Miris finally got a few shaky breaths in. Still red face, he turned towards his rescuer. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Not to his surprise, the little ginger pain in his ass had jumped back at least five feet and was out of his range of a good smack to the head. He was watching him, probably ready to run or slide under him if he did anything stupid. It was that creepy Dalish vision – Cherche did the same thing when in a corner. Why his mother had thought that was interesting would never make sense to him.

Cahel looked to choose his words carefully, which for him was a fucking miracle considering how much he talked. “I was just saying, you’re not very quiet. We all heard you two last night after lights out. You’re probably going to want to avoid Leliana, because I’m pretty sure she’s writing a song about it.”

Well, wouldn’t that just tickle Zevran pink. Miris, on the other hand, was looking for a good hole to die in; maybe somewhere that he could watch the sky as he decomposed and his sun-bleached bones could break somebody’s leg if they were stepped on. Of course, anywhere he dropped would probably be a hazard for years thanks to the damn darkspawn blood he had chugged down like a noble boy during his first night at the tavern, so that plan maybe wasn’t as well planned out. Regardless, he had a bard to see and a lyre to snap.

Still… red faced he glared down at the boy. “Is this gonna be a problem, squirt?”

“Huh?”

Miris resisted the urge to smack his hand to his forehead. “Me and Zevran. You’re not going to do fucked up shit to me because I fuck guys, are you?”

He wasn’t too sure how the Dalish felt about it, but it had always been sort of a thing kept on the down low back home. His father had probably not been aware of that when he had arranged for him to be married. Hell, it probably hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The warrior didn’t know what to expect out of his fellow Warden, but laughter definitely wasn’t high upon the list. Cahel almost doubled over chuckling, holding his stomach for support so he didn’t collapse into the dirt. Miris’ face felt hot enough to cook the sun, so he sprinted over in order to glare down at him.

“And what the fuck is so funny?!”

The redhead took a shaky breath as he stood. “Tabris, the last person to give you shit for this is me. If you hadn’t noticed, I like men too.”

Oh.

Well…

He hadn’t expected that.

“Anyway, you and Zevran should probably work on the volume level a little. I wanna be able to sleep when I can, you know.” Cahel returned to the fire, taking up his carving once more. He left Miris standing there, rather stunned.

However, he wasn’t to remain that for long. Cutting through the familiar aroma of wet dog and despair was a spicier aroma that made goosebumps appear on his arms. It was behind him, almost too faint to notice but he had become trained to it by now.

“I heard a lot of screaming, Warden. Is everything alright?”

Zevran had a bowl in his hands though where he had gotten it was beyond him. Miris hadn’t seen him go to the pot. Yet, the fact he was there at all relaxed him, and the two sat down on a long across from Cahel to eat.

Yep… sitting had been a bad idea. He had forgotten for a brief moment why he had been yelling. A sudden bolt of lightning soreness raced through his body. Training and a strong will were all that kept him from yelping, but no doubt it showed on his face. At least nobody around the fire laughed, so he could be thankful for that.

Last night’s bed mate gave him a look of concern, then asked in a low voice “Is everything alright, Tabris? You look stiff.”

“Yeah, fine. Just… a little sore.” His eye dropped to his bowl of breakfast. “Leliana is apparently writing a song about us.”

To this, Zevran chuckled. “Oh, is she? I will have to inspect her work once completed. Bards can never get the description of my nose right.”

He nudged closer, and their shoulders bumped briefly. To others, it could have been seen as an accident, but the warrior knew better. Nothing his lover did was by chance. It was his own subtle way of being there.

“We have a long day of walking ahead of us today, my friend.” There was a glint in Zevran’s eye after he grimaced through a mouthful of stew. “Hopefully it will help to loosen those muscles. If not, another round of massage could certainly be arranged if you were willing.”

Miris knew all too well that very little massage would be involved. Oil, yes, plenty of that – Maker forbid they ever ran out – and a lot of touching, but not in the way others would have assumed. A shiver ran down his spine, and he managed a nod.

“Excellent. Let us see if you survive the day again.” The grimace returned to the Antivan’s face as he finished his breakfast. “I will never understand Fereldens and their aversion to taste.”

The warrior rolled his eyes as he stood, muscles protesting. “Hey, boiling never killed anyone.”

“I will be the judge of that. Until later, my Warden.”

A blush crept up the back of Miris’ neck as he went to finish breaking down the tent. He could have swore Cahel shot him a look as he passed, but he didn’t look back. There was plenty of work left to be done before they moved out.

After all, he definitely needed to be ready for that massage when they made camp again later that night. Proper stretching was crucial.


End file.
